


Día de las Almas

by transjohnnygill



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, rated for Kanda's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjohnnygill/pseuds/transjohnnygill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanda hates Mexico. Of course Komui would send him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Día de las Almas

It was official: Kanda _hated_ Mexico. His hatred burned hotter than the desolate, arid, hell-hole of the region through which he currently traveled. Even though it was almost November, it still felt like he was traveling across the surface of the sun.  He hated this place more than he hated the crazy-ass general that had spawned from this particular circle of hell.

Not only did the sun _never go the hell away_ , but the food was all yellow rice and that awful herb known as cilantro.

And then there were the _people_. They understood the concept of personal space even less than the Europeans, always trying to hug and touch him with every interaction. Hardly anyone spoke English, and those who did spoke _so fast_ that between the speed and their accents, he couldn't understand a damn word that came out of their mouths.

Kanda was going to have words with Komui once he got back. Sharp, pointed words. With Mugen. And no actual speaking. And he sure as hell was going to make sure that he never ended up here ever again.

As it was, Kanda was still stuck in a microscopic pueblo in the middle of freaking nowhere, looking for a shard of innocence that may or may not actually even exist. Kanda growled as yet another bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck before soaking into the collar of his uniform. Even sitting inside a tavern, there was no relief from the heat.

The little town seemed to be gearing up for some kind of festival; every which way he turned there were little old ladies covering _everything_ in poufy orange flowers and shop keepers putting little ornate skeletons, oddly-shaped loaves of bread, and candles on _every_ flat surface. Kanda was almost half-tempted to ask the finder what exactly it was that they were celebrating. Almost.

Even though it was Halloween, it didn’t look like any Halloween festival that he had ever seen before. The skeletons were the closest thing resembling the European holiday that he had seen so far. Leaving the shady haven of the tavern, Kanda began making his way through the town, one hand firmly on Mugen as he went.

As he squeezed his way through a crowd of older women who were speaking rapidly while waving those stupid flowers around, he stopped dead in his tracks, hearing one of the women mention a name that he never thought he’d hear this far away from home: _Alma_.

Whipping around to face the offending woman, he unsheathed his blade ever-so-slightly, ready for a fight. “What the hell did you just say, old woman?!” He growled, staring down at the shriveled old woman menacingly.

She stepped back from him, startled, eyes shifting back and forth quickly between his katana and the sharp scowl on his face, “¡Dios mío! ¿Qué pasa, señor?”

“Alma! How the hell do you know that name?!” His grip tightened on Mugen’s hilt, shifting his center of balance, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

“¿Alma? Mañana es el día de las almas—”

“Las almas _what_?”

“She’s saying that tomorrow is the day of souls, señor.” The soft, feminine voice came from behind him; Kanda turned on the balls of his feet, coming face-to-face with the local finder that had been assigned to him for this mission. “I am afraid that you are causing a scene, señor Kanda, por favor could you put away your blade?” The finder turned to the side, beckoning him to follow.

With a huff, Kanda re-secured Mugen, giving the group of now silent women one final glare before letting the tan-clad finder take point down the dusty street. “You want to tell me what the hell the ‘day of souls’ friggin is? Doesn’t sound like anything good to me.” Just when he thought this country couldn’t get any worse, they just **_had_** to have a day called freaking ‘las **_almas’_** …

“Some places call it ‘el día de los muertos’—the day of the dead. It is a celebration of life.” The finder cast a glance at the samurai, continuing when he failed to say anything. “Creemos que the souls of our dead rejoin us on these days; tomorrow we will celebrate the children that left us too early, y el día siguiente es for las almas de los adultos.” Another glance as they continued down the street towards the inn that the Order had booked for the exorcist.

“…so…’Alma’…is a soul...?” Kanda’s voice was still tense, but it had lost its usual heat, settling instead for a tone so quiet, it almost sounded defeated.

The finder nodded, giving him a small smile. “Tomorrow, the families will go to los cementerios and light velas por los niños.” Kanda bowed his head slightly, taking in the information. They spent the rest of the walk in silence, the finder leaving him at the entrance to the inn.

The next evening, after an unsuccessful day of searching for innocence, Kanda found himself standing at the gate to the town’s cemetery, watching as families gathered together at the tombstones with food and candles, laughing and smiling with one another as if they weren’t in a freaking graveyard.

Just as he was getting ready to turn back and leave for the inn, a little girl dashed up to him, tugging on his coat and shoving an unlit candle as close to his face as her short little arms allowed her to.

“¡Es por las almas!” The smile on her face reached all the way to her eyes as he accepted the candle; the child took this as an invitation to drag Kanda over to the plot where her family was gathered, her parents and grandparents laughing and smiling as the young girl pulled and tugged the exorcist to join them. Taking a match from the grandmother, Kanda lit his candle and set it beside the others surrounding the grave.

“¿Quien ha perdido?” The girl asked, cocking her head to the side as she stared at him with big, brown eyes. Even without understanding the words, Kanda knew what she had asked.

“…his name was Alma…” He said quietly, his eyes locked on the candle that he had lit. The child leaned into his side, small hand gently patting his shoulder.

He passed the entire night celebrating with that family of strangers, taking small hand-painted sugar skulls and candles back to the Order with him once he finally left the tiny town. He would never admit it to anyone and would deny it vehemently if ever asked, but after that night, Kanda Yuu hated Mexico just a little less than before. And every November first, he would light a candle for that childhood friend that he had lost too soon, never realizing that he would one day get the chance to see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please place any blame on Chloe and the sin corner for any emotions resulting from this.


End file.
